Signed, The Breakfast Club
by Audrey White
Summary: What happened after that fateful day of detention? Can a Saturday like that really last, or did everything return to normal? Can five completely different individuals defy stereotypes, or is the status quo too hard to break?
1. Chapter 1

Claire trudged through the snow staring down at her boots. She sighed heavily thinking about how much she had paid for them, and to think they were getting ruined in the snow. She rolled her eyes, one of her trademark moves, and carried on through the snow. "_Really, dad?"_ she thought angrily. "_You had to forget to pick me up, today? The day that it snows? Really, dad?" _ Lost in her own thought, Claire was absent-minded to the snickering behind her. A snowball hit her right in the back of her head, sending chills down her spine.

She spun around to see the perpetrator. It was none other than John Bender. Claire tried to keep a stern face but a smile broke through. "Why, you…" She picked up her own ball of snow but just as she was about to throw it, another one came soaring her way. She dropped the one she was making. "John!" she squealed. "You're getting me covered in snow!"

"Oh, am I?" he remarked.

"Yes!"

John rushed towards her and pushed her into a pile of snow. He sat down in the snow beside her as she lay laughing. "Now I am," he grinned. Claire smiled up at him, her brown eyes twinkling with delight. John tilted himself so that he was nose to nose with her. He leaned in to kiss her but turned at the last second. He started to get up but Claire grabbed him by his leather jacket and pulled him back. This time when he leaned in he stayed and kissed her. He ran a hand through her bright orange hair. She looked into his brown eyes.

"You weren't at school today," she stated.

"I skipped. I tried to find you beforehand to see if you would fancy skipping with, but you had already gone to class."

"I don't skip. We can't all be rebels, John."

"It's a shame... Well, hey. We should probably get you home." John and Claire started walking up the sidewalk, brushing snow off of themselves. John reached down for Claire's hand. She squeezed his leather covered hand. "By the way, when will I finally get to meet your old man?"

Claire laughed. "How about when I meet your parents?"

John shook his head. "You and I both know that you don't want or need to meet my parents. Your parents on the other hand- I should meet your parents."

Claire grimaced. "And why should you do that?"

"Look, you're the first girl that I've ever truly cared about. And, oddly, I want to follow through on all the things that a good boyfriend should do. And one is meeting their girl's family. They do know you have a boyfriend right?" Claire hesitated. "Claire…?"

"Well, yes… Sort of… They know I've been going out on dates…"

"That's it? That is it? That you've been going out on dates? Claire… Even my parents know I have a girlfriend. My parents, damn it."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah, and my dad gave me some advice. Wear a condom. And damn it, I plan on following that advice- you know, when we have sex."

Claire punched him lightly in the arm. "You're a pig, John."

"And you like it." John turned in front of her. "Well, here we are. The usual drop off. A block away from your house so that your parents won't question and most of your friends won't see." The corners of Claire's lips turned down. "It's okay. I get it. I'll see ya, babe." John kissed Claire goodbye and watched as she walked away, towards the biggest house in the town. He turned around and headed back to his own house, on the poorer side of town.


	2. Chapter 2

Allison stared across the cafeteria at the table of wrestlers. From where she sat alone at the corner table, she had a perfect view of Andrew. It had been three weeks since their Saturday detention together—and three weeks since they had last talked. Though they passed each other daily in the hallway and even had study hall together, they never spoke. In the back of her mind, Allison knew this would happen—yet she still had a false hope that somewhere along the way, Andrew would not forget her.

She stared intently on Andrew's jawline, capturing it in her mind, defining its every angle. He noticed her staring and looked up to her, giving a half-smile before returning to his friends' conversation. Allison looked down to the drawing she was working on and picked up her pencil.

"Can I sit with you, Allison?"

Allison looked up to see Brian, smiling eagerly and holding his lunch tray. She nodded and turned back to her art. Brian took the seat next to her and unwrapped his silverware, digging into his macaroni and cheese happily.

"So, how have you been?"

"Okay. You?"

"I've been alright! Good, in fact! I mean I haven't been doing so near perfect, but good!" Brian stuffed another forkful of macaroni into his mouth. "Hey, that's a nice drawing you're doing! It's of Andrew, right?"

Allison instinctively covered the drawing but looked at Brian's honest expression and couldn't help but let him see it. "Yeah, it's him."

Brian nodded. "It's really good."

"You think so?" she asked.

"Yeah, I really do. It looks just like him. Does he know you're drawing it?"

Allison shook her head. "No. I was originally going to surprise him with it… But…" She looked over again at Andrew who looked back hesitantly. This time he gave no reply of an expression but ignored her entirely as he listened to another jock.

Brian caught on. "But you haven't talked to him since detention."

"Exactly." Allison continued to stare at Andrew as Brian began to munch on an apple. She eventually looked down at herself. What she saw was a long sweater, a baggy skirt with a hole just above the knee, black ankle boots, and her gray striped socks—an outfit near-close to what she had worn at detention. Without being done up in makeup, with her hair pulled back, and a certain brightness to her outfit, she was unnoticeable to the world and to Andrew. "So have you talked to John or Claire?"

Brian shook his head. "Not really. I mean, John doesn't trip me in the hallways anymore so that's an improvement. But nah, I haven't really talked to either of them."

"Oh," Allison sighed. The bell rang dismissing lunch. Allison and Brian gathered their things and threw their trash away.

"Hey, um… Could I maybe eat lunch with you every day? I mean, you don't have to say yes. Don't feel obliged to, but I was just-"

"Yeah," Allison cut off Brian. He looked up at her in disbelief. "You can."

"Cool. Well, I'll see you!" Brian headed off in the opposite direction. Normally Allison would have rejected any companionship, but lately she had felt alone. Brian was a nice guy, and he did make Allison feel at least a little bit noticed. It was because of his honest friendliness that she accepted his request.

Allison smiled to herself as she passed by the table of jocks, not paying much attention. A leg extended in front of her and caught her step. She slammed hard to the ground and her sketchbook went sliding in front of her. A roar of laughter built up around her.

"Whoa, sorry! Didn't see ya there, Nutcase," said the wrestler who had tripped Allison. She stood up silently and dusted off some food crumbs. A different jock grabbed Allison's sketchbook, thumbing through the pages.

"Oh, look what we have here!" he said, opening to the drawing of Andrew.

"Please, don't!"

"Oh, she talks!" said the jock who had tripped her. "Well, Jay, what's the picture of?"

The jock holding the book showed the drawing to the entire group. He slapped Andrew on the back. "Looks like you've got an admirer, Andrew!" All of the jocks laughed, except for Andrew who looked hopeless at Allison. "Why are you drawing our buddy here, Nutcase? Why are you drawing him?" The jock threw the sketchbook at Allison who clumsily caught it. She tried to push past them but they held her back. "I asked a question."

"I, uh—I was drawing it for him…" she mumbled under her breath.

"Oh, Andrew! Your Lover Girl was drawing you! Did ya hear that?" Another roar of laughter ensued. Andrew still didn't laugh. Allison began to push her hair in front of her face, as if to hide from the current situation.

"You were drawing me?" Andrew asked openly as if he had missed the entire scene that had played out in front of him. Allison looked up hopefully, waiting for him to be her knight in shining armor. He almost became that, but he looked around at his fellow jocks who were waiting for him to join in on their mockery. "Well, why the hell are you doing that? I don't even know you. Freak."

Allison burst into tears and pushed past the wrestlers, this time successful in leaving. The guys slapped Andrew on the back and chimed in with more jokes about Allison. Andrew laughed along with them, but kept his eye on Allison the entire time—watching as she ran down the hallway with tears streaming from her eyes and onto the sketchbook that she clenched to her chest.


End file.
